


yours to cherish and behold

by greenbucket



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: 5+1 Things, F/M, Fluff, Marriage Proposal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-14
Updated: 2018-11-14
Packaged: 2019-08-17 04:32:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 17,440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16509440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greenbucket/pseuds/greenbucket
Summary: So it turns out it's pretty hard to keep quiet about planning a proposal. A good 90 percent of Chowder wants to yell it from the rooftops and just like, tell random strangers about the gospel of How Amazing Caitlin Farmer is Did You Know I Love Her and Want to Marry Her?aka five times Chowder wants (and tries) to propose to Farmer and one time he does.





	1. 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to:  
> \- the mods for running the Big Bang in the first place because this was a blast  
> \- loveyoutoobits for beta reading this and helping it actually make sense  
> \- missweber for the kind words and astounding art
> 
> Title from _Down the Aisle (The Wedding Song)_ by Patti LaBelle and the Bluebells.

 

“So,” Chowder starts, “I think I’m going to ask Caitlin to marry me!”

It’s only after the words come out that he thinks about whether it was the most appropriate time to say them. He did just interrupt Dex mid-rant, which is kind of rude, and it’s supposed to be a frogs catch up brunch. Honestly, Chowder hadn’t really considered the idea until thirty seconds ago when he’d got a text from Cait ( _babe could u get some blister cushions on the way back since it’s on ur route? And say hi 2 the gang from me sorry I couldnt reschedule!! :( Love u!!!! xxx_ ) and the thought had just been there in his brain.

Chowder takes a second to text Caitlin back ( _sure!!_ and _we’re missing u :’( I love you too!!!!_ ) before pushing his phone to the side of the table. He doesn’t need to get distracted by Cait texting back when he’s trying to think about the fact he wants to marry her, and he doesn’t get to see Nursey or Dex all that often anymore now they’re scattered all over the place doing Adult Life – they deserve his attention.

He says, “Sorry, just had to text Cait real quick.” Then he looks up and his stomach falls, scrambling to ask, “Oh my gosh, guys, is everything okay?”

To Chowder’s right Nursey’s chin is wobbling and across the table Dex’s eyes look suspiciously bright. Did he space out so hard thinking about Caitlin that he interrupted some super dire news? Getting fired? A death in the family?

“Bro,” says Nursey, voice just as choked as his wobbly chin suggests. “C. That’s _huge_. You’re sure?”

The idea’s so fresh that he hadn’t really considered the reality of it but with Nursey and Dex both tearing up in front of him the weight really hits. Marriage. He wants to do it. Actually get married, to Caitlin, because he loves her. Enough to choose to spend his whole life with her. Which he’s already been doing pretty much anyway but to like, _promise_ that.

Holy shit.

“Yeah,” he says. “I think I’m sure.”

Chowder would be embarrassed about the fact he’s crying in a diner, but he refuses to be because his parents, and then Shitty, always told him it’s important to express emotions freely. Besides, they’re happy tears! Nursey almost knocks over both their chairs pulling him into a hug, kissing his cheek and thumping him on the shoulder, and Dex pretends to choke on a mouthful of egg as an excuse to wipe his eyes with a napkin.

“Where’s this coming from? Did you decide that just then while I was going off about spam mail?” Dex asks once he’s done overacting.

Chowder shrugs. It’s not news that he loves Cait, or that they’re in it for the long haul, but those two don’t necessarily add up to marriage. Except now he’d kind of like them to. “Well she texted while you were talking but um, yeah, kinda?”

“Listening to you going on and on just made him thankful for what he’s got, am I right?”

“Shut up, Nurse,” says Dex, perfunctory.

Nursey allows Chowder to resettle into his chair and tries to take a sip of his coffee nonchalantly, super-chill, except his chirping-you smirk is more of a delighted grin and he’s still got tear tracks on his cheeks. “Are we old enough to get married?”

Chowder says, “Hopefully! I think legally, anyway.”

And Dex says, rolling his eyes, “Who’s ‘we’? You’re gonna get in on Chowder and Farmer getting married too?”

“Well, being best man is gonna be like, pretty close, right?”

“Oh, so you’re going to be the best man? Really?”

“Chill, Dex, you still matter or whatever. I’m just gonna be C’s best man, okay?”

Chowder loves them. If he had to pick two people to witness his realising he wants to marry Caitlin, he would’ve picked them.

He digs into his waffles as they bicker away, waiting for them to wear themselves out a little and taking the opportunity to let himself adjust to the new reality they’re in. It’s a reality where Chowder is going to ask Caitlin to marry him, which is awesome. Proposing is a big deal, and Chowder’s sure there’s a lot of stuff he’ll needs to think and freak out about sooner or later, but for now he enjoys feeling sure, confident even. He loves Cait, he wants to marry her. That’s a definite.

On Caitlin’s side, though…

Like, they’ve sort of talked about this kind of thing before? They’ve been together coming up to eight years, and in Chowder’s mind people don’t really date for eight years without talking about where the relationship is going, so they’ve talked. They talked when they moved in together, they talked when they had to pick between going back to California or staying on the east coast together, they talked that one time Cait had missed her period and the home pregnancy tests had been inconclusive.

The m-word hasn’t come up, really, though. Not in concrete terms. Not like _I want us to get married_ , and now it turns out Chowder does want that, and he can only hope Cait will feel the same.

“Should I text her now and ask? Um, ask her to marry me, I mean?” he asks once he senses Dex and Nursey are winding down, reaching for his phone. They love each other, it’s just the simple next step; no need for any fuss! Right?

Dex says immediately and firmly, “Yeah, no.”

“You’ve got more romance in your soul than that, Chowder,” says Nursey more hearteningly. He takes Chowder’s phone and puts it out of convenient reach. “You’ll know when the time’s right, bro, but the time is _never_ over text.”

Chowder can concede that’s probably more than true, and Cait more than deserves romance, but now the idea’s in his head he just wants to ask before he overthinks it. “Do you think she’ll say yes?”

Dex and Nursey share a look. Chowder knows that look, and he’s already trying to backtrack, but it’s too late.

“Will she say _yes_ ,” Dex scoffs, as if personally offended. “I don’t know, Nursey, do you think she’ll say yes?”

“I dunno, man, like what about that time C knocked into her and the rest of the volleyball team? In a classic meet-cute? And then drove to see her in winter break?” Nursey shakes his head regretfully. “I wouldn’t say yes after that.”

Chowder tries to cut them off before they get momentum going. “Guys–”

“Then he went to all her home matches he could make, despite being on the hockey team and having a demanding course load, like an inconsiderate asshole. And that time he managed to glue the heel back on her shoe at Winter Screw when there wasn’t any glue in sight?” says Dex, ignoring him completely. “Complete douche move.”

“What a dickwad,” Nursey agrees. “What about when he saved up for a deposit _all_ of senior year so they could move in together after graduation?”

“Tragic,” Dex sighs. “And he cooks practically all the meals because Farmer hates cooking, but he won’t do the dusting because it makes him sneeze? That guy never learned to pull his weight, not in all those years they’ve been dating.”

Chowder can feel himself blushing. “I get the idea!”

Nursey ignores him. “Remember when he wiped out on the Pond and smacked his head and thought Farms was an angel and then realised she was his girlfriend and he told her he loved her like fifteen bazillion times?”

“Let a lady get a word in edgeways, Chow, jeez.”

Chowder laughs in spite of himself. “Okay, come on, you can stop! Cait’s gonna say yes like, 86 percent definitely.”

Nursey steals Chowder’s second to last bite of waffle and says with a put-upon sigh, “Sorry, man, we can’t stop until you’re feeling that that 86 is at 100 percent.”

“Friendship bylaws,” confirms Dex sagely, shamelessly taking Chowder’s last bite of waffle for himself.

Chowder should’ve just kept his marriage revelation to himself. His cheeks are _burning_ , and Dex and Nursey are still chirp-listing all his positive attributes, and now he hasn’t got any of his waffle left.

\---

By the time Chowder gets back to the house, it all feels a little unreal.

Dex and Nursey had spent the rest of brunch alternately teasing, confidence-boosting, and suggesting increasingly outlandish proposal and wedding ideas, and Chowder had gone to work feeling all kinds of pleased and turned about. He arranged to go ring shopping with Nursey before they parted ways, too, because no shade to Dex but he couldn’t tell good jewellery from scrap metal. So that’s a thing. Buying a ring to propose to Cait with, because he loves her and wants to marry her.

Then he’d had to set the idea of marriage aside to focus on code and like, communicating with his co-workers like a functional human being. Somewhere in those hours the entire concept has taken on a dream quality, like marrying Caitlin isn’t something he really intends to do. Just another topic of conversation between friends.

That lasts about as long as it takes for him to take off his shoes and find Cait’s beaten him home. She’s sitting at the kitchen table with a can of soda, reading through a stack of notes probably filled with weird deep-sea creature data, with her feet up on one of the chairs. Her feet look super sore, the offending new shoes already stuffed with newspaper on the floor beside her to hopefully stretch them out, and Chowder is glad he paid a little more for the cushions with pain relief.

“Sup,” she says, beckoning him over for a kiss and barely a glance up from her notes.

“I thought you’d be lying down on the bed with like, every cushion in the house,” says Chowder, because it does look painful but also Cait loves to milk an injury for all its worth.

Caitlin snorts. “On _that_ mattress? It’s so uncomfortable I’d be like, actively adding to the pain. Besides, I gotta read through all this before tomorrow, because I didn’t get the email about it two weeks ago. Please cry for me.”

Chowder lets the comment about their mattress slide; it’s old, sure, but there’s a little thing called sentimentality and the principle of if it ain’t broke.  “You love your creepy sea demon stuff,” he reminds her instead.

“I know, but today has not been a good dyslexia day.” She sighs and rubs her eyes. “It’ll be fine, if I don’t get through it all then I don’t get through it all. They’re pretty understanding.”

“I can read it out to you if you want?” Chowder offers, “It’s not like I need to understand it, though I might mispronounce things.” He sorts through the crap in his rucksack to find the box of blister cushions, putting it on the table for Cait to see when she’s done rubbing her eyes to oblivion.

“Chris, you’re like, the best boyfriend in the universe and a prince among men,” she says when she’s done and spots the box, picking it up and holding it to her chest like it’s precious. “Those shoes are some kind of torture device, they looked so innocent in the shop and they fit so well and then bam! Walking on the sidewalk in them is agony.”

Chowder opens the kitchen cupboards to start planning for dinner. “You could always return them.”

“And admit defeat? I don’t think so,” Caitlin gives the shoes a mean look, like she can shame them into being comfortable. “You don’t need to cook, I’ll do it tonight.”

This is unheard off. Dex hadn’t been kidding when he said Chowder does all the cooking, and honestly Chowder’s cool with that because he kind of enjoys it and he knows Cait despises it even though she’s more than capable. “Are you sure?” he asks.

“Yeah, it’ll be a trade-off,” says Caitlin, getting to her feet with a wince. “I’ll make dinner while you read this research to me so that I don’t give up and move to a cave in the desert. Then we’ll take a break and you can tell me about your day while we eat instead of me being grouchy all evening. Fair deal?”

_I want to marry you_ , Chowder thinks. He’s not going to ask, not just yet, because romance and because he wants to give the idea a little longer to settle. It wouldn’t really be a change for them, not like, materially, but it’s a big symbolic step and Chowder doesn’t want to take it too lightly. One day he’s going to ask Caitlin to marry him, and she will probably very likely say yes, and it’s going to be amazing and scary and all kinds of things. But that’s for some time in the future – though not _too_ distant future – rather than this evening.

This evening Chowder’s going to read Cait’s notes to her, and he’s going to enjoy the rare treat of her cooking, and tell her about the company gossip over dinner even though he feels kinda bad about enjoying the drama.

“Fair deal,” he agrees. “Which bit did you get to?”

“The bit about sequencing nuclear genomes,” Caitlin says, pulling down six different spices from their spice rack.

Chowder sits at the table while she goes on to ransack their fridge, scanning the tiny print to find the bit Cait is talking about. “ _Following this process of sequencing, we sequenced a further sixty genomes_ ,” Chowder reads out, “and then it’s got in brackets – oh shit, this is Latin, okay, um, I’m just going to spell it out?”

“No, come on. I’m the one with dyslexia, not you. Read it out for real, you chicken,” says Caitlin.

Chowder considers the words in front of him for a bit while Cait turns on the stove. He’s not bad at languages – he learnt Mandarin, after all – but ugh. Latin. He tries his best guess and Caitlin laughs herself stupid at it then corrects him gently, and the question is right there on the tip of Chowder’s tongue, but he swallows it down and settles in to soldier on through the rest of the research paper.

 


	2. 2

So it turns out, once Chowder is pretty sure that Caitlin will say yes – and even if she doesn’t want to get married, that she’ll get the gesture of I-want-a-whole-rest-of-our-lives-together level of commitment – he realises he has no idea how to propose.

Dex and Nursey had been right that asking via text wasn’t cool, and Chowder is definite that he’s needed the last few weeks to like, be sure of things and adjust emotionally to it all. So it’s not a regret, exactly, that he didn’t just ask Caitlin the second he got back that day; it’s just that _just asking_ both seems like the only suitable and the most unsuitable way to do it.

Their whole relationship has been a kind of stumbling into the unknown – first, when Dex had tripped them into the volleyball team and started it all, and then again when Chowder had thought to himself fuck it and asked Caitlin if she’d like to go on to Winter Screw with him, even though he’d never asked a girl out on an actual date before. Most of their progress is by happy accident; Chowder hadn’t even realised he was saving up for a deposit so they could live together until halfway through automatically putting aside what he could here and there, and then suddenly there it was and he knew it was true.

So it seems the automatic choice to just ask Cait, in the true fashion of their relationship. She’s never seemed dissatisfied with the approach before, but they’ve also never _got engaged to be married_ before, and Chowder is pretty sure that’s a massive milestone. And he doesn’t want to disappoint Caitlin, for her to look back on it and think ‘yeah, that was fine’. Cait deserves the best, and Chowder wants her to have it and to give it to her, and so she deserves a proposal so deeply romantic Chowder can’t quite conceive of how it’s going to really go yet.

It's possible he may have been talking too much to Jack and Bitty.

It’s just that he was excited, and wanted to share the news, and also maybe get some advice. The only other sort of married people he knows are 1) his parents, who would be weird to ask, 2) Cait’s parents, who would be even weirder, 3) Lardo and Shitty, who would be okay but probably not get him much advice. To this day, no one knows if they secretly eloped like they joked about for a bit or if they called the whole thing off and are just chill making a long-term commitment.

So, Jack and Bitty.

They’re not actually married (yet) but they kind of completely are in all ways except legally, and Chowder had been there for the billion roses and seen the kissing on the ice after winning the Stanley Cup and all of it. They know how to do romance, like romancey romance, even though Chowder is pretty sure Bitty still likes to shove his foot into Jack’s face after a long day and force him to sniff.

Maybe that’s why Chowder calls Jack instead of Bitty. Jack can be pretty abrupt, but that doesn’t detract on the romance scale as much as making someone smell how rank your socks are. He checks the NHL schedule and calls when he’s pretty sure Jack will be at home and not napping or eating. It’s a pretty small window of time, but that’s okay.

When Jack picks up, Chowder finds himself babbling just a little. “Hey, Jack! Is this a good time? I can call back later if it’s not, it’s not like an emergency or anything, I just wanted to talk and stuff.”

“Hey, Chowder. Now’s fine. What’s up?”

Jack’s tone is always a little hard to read over the phone, but Chowder is nervous and excited enough to cut to the chase anyway. “I’m going to ask Caitlin to marry me!”

Silence. And then a bit more silence, before, “Wow, Chowder, that’s awesome.” Jack is speaking in his I-mean-it not-quite-monotone, not his default-to-talking-to-press absolute-monotone. Chowder lets out a breath, something in him settled, and he hadn’t even realised how much he had wanted Jack’s approval.

Bitty’s voice appears in the background of the call, echoey and distant and then louder. “What’s awesome? Is that Chowder? Hi, sweetheart, why don’t you ever call _me_ , huh?”

“He’s going to ask Farmer to marry him,” Jack says to Bitty.

Bitty’s voice is very loud, even sort of second hand and through the phone, when he not-quite-yells, “ARE YOU KIDDING ME?”

“I’m not,” says Chowder, and Jack relays the message.

“Bitty’s really happy for you,” Jack relays back Chowder’s way. Chowder can hear that for himself, but it’s nice to know all the same. “I’m putting you on speaker.”

“Thanks, Bitty!” Chowder says once he’s pretty sure he’s been speakered. “I was actually calling because I was going to ask you guys for some tips on how I should do it? I want it to be like, big and good enough for her and for it to say I love you! Which you guys are good at.”

Jack completely disproves this by saying, “You should do something romantic.” And leaving it there.

And then Bitty suggests: “You should take her to dinner.”

“At a nice place,” adds Jack.

Bitty continues, “And fill her with nice, expensive food and then propose. Dream proposal.”

Chowder does like food, and so does Cait. Neither of them has been picky about how much it cost before or the assumed quality associated with that, but still. A romantic dinner could be nice! It sounds like how Big Romantic Proposals are supposed to go in Chowder’s mind, if they’re not during the Super Bowl or a theme park or something. He just needs to pick the right time.

“Our anniversary is coming up,” he tells them. “I could take her somewhere then?”

“Sounds good, man,” says Jack. “Flowers, nice suit, nice meal.”

Bitty asks, “Is it a big anniversary?”

“Uh, it’s our eighth.”

“Hm, it would be very romantic if it was your tenth or something.”

Chowder’s stomach sinks. “Should I wait another two years?” he asks. He doesn’t want to wait another two years; waiting two months has been hard enough, now he knows he wants to ask for sure. He texts Nursey the same question, while Jack and Bitty scramble to assure him he doesn’t need to wait two years, Bitty was just thinking out loud.

Then Jack says, “Ah, Chowder, sorry–” and Bitty says, “I’ll send you some ideas, okay?” and then they hang up, because Jack has to go somewhere as NHL stars usually do. Dude’s always good to go for messaging, but getting him on the phone is an art.

Chowder looks down at his dark phone screen. He thought it might be reassuring to discuss ideas, but he doesn’t know the first thing about flowers, or nice suits, or expensive restaurants, and apparently he’s planning this all two years early. Great.

 _wtf bro no way what are you talking about_ , replies Nursey at last. _if you dont propose to farms within like 9 months MAX im proposing to her for u myself_

Chowder takes a calming breath. Nursey had helped him pick out the swawesomest wedding ring Chowder had ever seen (which is now sitting in his work rucksack under a pile of spare papers); if Nursey said it was cool to propose not in two years, and Bitty had backtracked, then it was all good.

Since that phone call, Bitty has texted at least fourteen different detailed ideas and two summarising itineraries; he must be procrastinating something. Chowder has tried to take them all on board, at least a bit, but it’s been a lot. Maybe this is why he and Caitlin usually never do anything too big for their anniversary. Just some nicer food than usual for dinner, maybe some sex if the day works out that they can fit it in.

The most important bit is that they set their alarms for earlier than usual so they get to wake up next to each other and Cait gets to say ‘I love you’ in her it’s-our-anniversary voice, and Chowder gets to say ‘I love you, too’ back in his it’s-our-anniversary voice. And then they get to like, snuggle for a bit before their normal alarm times come around and they have to start getting about their days as they normally do.

Except Chowder always feels kind of like he’s floating on a cloud for the rest of the day, so the day doesn’t really go that much like normal.

But now it’s a Proposal Anniversary, and as his friends and the internet and every film ever have told him, proposals should be big on the romancey romance. Jack and Bitty are as close to the experts in that as Chowder can get. Them or back to the internet where the blogs and forums he’s read through make him feel even more stressed, so he sticks to the outline Bitty suggests.

Even though it’s all turned out to be a lot more work than he thought it would be. Chowder just wants to ask Caitlin to marry him because he loves her, but it’s become a whole operation.

For example, Chowder has literally bought new dress pants for this meal.

Nothing happened to his old pair, they’re just tight. Like, super tight, and kind of thinning? It’s always been an advantage until today – when he has to dress well people compliment him on his sense of style, and after (or during) whatever event has called for the dressing well Cait usually compliments him on his ass. They’re comfortable, too, for tight dress pants, which is as rare as finding the holy grail, so Chowder is pretty much sworn for life to his tight dress pants.

Except Bitty pointed out that they are too tight to hide a ring box in the pocket, and so did Dex and Nursey. Nursey had also said he might want a bit sturdier coverage in the crotch area if he got a heart boner. Chowder isn’t sure that’s like, a thing – or at least, he doesn’t feel like he’s had a heart boner before, just regular ones, because a heart boner sounds like he’s hard just because he loves Cait? But he’s not taking any risks.

If he’s ever going to get a heart boner around Caitlin it’ll be when he’s proposing, even if he’s so nervous about it he’s not sure his dick is totally in action at the minute.

In hindsight, Chowder supposes he could have brought a bag, but he doesn’t really have a bag that isn’t his trusty rucksack. He might not know a lot about etiquette and stuff, but the place he’s picked out for dinner seems like the kind of place that might frown on trusty but quite raggedy rucksacks.

So here he is, walking across the parking lot with Cait, his dress pants flapping about in the wind like a sail on a ship with no one manning it. He kind of feels like he’s on a ship with no one steering, or manning, or whatever it is you do on a ship. Him and Cait never go out for these kind of luxurious-ass meals; usually if Caitlin says she feels like dressing up fancy and going out, they end up overdressed and giggly at the nearest Taco Bell.

And he’s planning to propose. At some point during or after this meal, probably? If he can figure out when the right time is. It’s definitely going to be today, though, because Chowder’s booked their table at this super romantic and expensive place and everything, and it’s their anniversary, and it’s what Jack and Bitty said would be the most romantic thing.

Chowder’s sorta kinda bricking it, but that’s fine. He loves Caitlin and they both love food, overpriced or not – it’ll all fall into place soon enough.

As they walk, Cait comments, “I thought you said this place was all upmarket? The outside is kind of ugly.”

And her voice is teasing, she doesn’t even mean it, but oh God, it is. It’s ugly! There are breezeblocks! He’s taken her to an ugly restaurant for a proposal that he hasn’t even planned properly. His ship-sail pants flap even more wildly in the wind, probably sensing his despair, because it would be just his luck to have bought pants that are sentient.

“Don’t judge a book by its cover,” he says weakly. “The inside looked really nice on their website, and the menu sounds tasty.” In truth, he had maybe scanned the menu for a whole entire panicked second.

“I’m sure it is,” says Cait, “and it looks like they’re probably halfway through an extension or something. Business must be good!”

“Well I was hardly going to take you to a place that was closing down for our anniversary. That would be pretty depressing.”

The first place Chowder made reservations had called him a few days later to says they were terribly sorry, sir, but their parent company had gone into liquidation and they would have to cancel. But still. This restaurant is just as nice, and Chowder isn’t that up to scratch on business lingo, but he’s pretty sure from a quick Google that it isn’t teetering towards collapse.

There’s a bit of confusion as they get in, because it turns out Chowder’s reservation had only sort of gone through, so they’ve been put on a table in the corner at short notice when one of the staff realised yesterday. Which is fine. Chowder isn’t panicking, and it’s not the most romantic part of the restaurant, right next to a wall and by the bathroom, but it’s still more chic than anywhere they usually go.

“Aw, Chris, you were right. This place really _is_ nice,” Caitlin says, looking around the room instead of at their very close wall and bathroom. “Fancy but not too intimidating. Super romantic, too.” She nudges him with her foot under the table and jokes, “Got anything big you want to ask?”

Chowder knocks over his glass, spilling water across the table. “Shit.” He grabs for his napkin and knocks his cutlery into his lap and onto the floor in the process. _Shit_.

“Oh, no!” Cait reaches over and rights his glass. “Don’t worry about it, it’s just water.” She does move the water jug closer to her side of the table, though. “At least there aren’t any candles. Do you want me to see if they can get you some fresh cutlery?”

Chowder takes his fork and a pair of spoons out his lap, then bends to pick up his knife. He glances it over, blows on it to be safe, then puts it all back on the table. “I’m good.” He feels eyes on him and when he looks the couple on the next table over are watching him with horrified expressions. Chowder takes his suit jacket off before he sweats straight through it, then almost drops that too as he tries to hang it on the back of his chair.

Across the table, Cait looks fond instead of horrified, which is good. “I am talking to Chris, right?” she asks. “That’s not Nursey’s soul in there, turning you into Mr Clumsy?”

“If I was Nursey, I would’ve knocked over the whole table somehow.”

“Fair point,” Caitlin agrees. “Are you sure you’re okay though? You kinda look like you’re going to puke. I know you made all this anniversary effort but we can always go home, ruin our backs some more with that shitty mattress and do some Netflix and chill. Minus the chill, if you’re feeling sick.”

“Ha-HA,” says Chowder, in what is very much not a laugh by any stretch of the imagination and definitely not his laugh. “I’m fine. It’s probably just the lighting in here?”

The restaurant has amazing lighting, even in their corner. Perfect for selfies and Instagramming pictures of food. Great for if your long-term boyfriend proposes to you and you want a photo to commemorate the occasion. Haha. Chowder goes to take a calming sip of water and only remembers his glass is empty when he’s raised it to his mouth.

Cait doesn’t look convinced. “Okay,” she says, and takes his glass from him to refill it.

“Sorry,” says Chowder, and takes the glass of water gratefully when she hands it back over. He’s really messing this up. The ring box feels super heavy in his pocket, pressing distractingly against his thigh.

“It’s okay. I guess places this expensive probably don’t have two for one deals? But let’s try and calculate how to get the most food for the least money before the waiter comes back anyway.”

God, Chowder loves her.

So it should be easy to ask if she’s down for getting married. He almost asks her then, in the pause as she flips open her menu, but is now the right time in their meal, in their evening, in their relationship? What words exactly is Chowder supposed to say? He’s already fucked up getting the reservation, knocked over half the table and been awkward all evening, so how is he going to ask Cait to marry him right?

Chowder feels so clunky tucked into this corner of the restaurant, too big and too noisy and his skin too tight. The couple the next table over are still shooting them disapproving looks. Is it because of Chowder’s shirt? It’s Sharks teal, the cufflinks stamped with the logo, and Cait had got it for his birthday three years ago and he’d cried. It’s his favourite formal button up. But maybe he should’ve gone for plain white. Maybe he should’ve taken Caitlin up on her offer to go home and watch Netflix in bed.

“Oh my God,” says Cait, delighted and three pages deep in the menu, “listen to this: ‘an inspired composition of deconstructed crab cakes with hand-selected _pommes puree_ , infused with autumnal spices.’”

 _What_. “What page?” asks Chowder, flicking through. That cannot be a real description. Cait tells him and then he has to read it with his own eyes. It’s a real description. “What the fuck are ‘autumnal spices’?”

Caitlin, who has been holding it together by practically biting off her own hand, bursts out laughing. The couple next to them are definitely giving them dirty looks now; Cait’s laugh would never be described as quiet or like, demure or whatever. It’s more of a cackle than anything, and Chowder has never been able to resist it – he laughs with her, enough that his ribs start to hurt and the tension he hadn’t even realised he was holding in his shoulders eases.

“’Inspired composition’,” Caitlin gasps between the giggles she’s eventually wound down to, tears rolling down her face. “Oh my God, this has made my entire night. The food can be shit, I don’t care.”

“Oh, don’t say that! I hope it’s better than shit for these prices.”

There’s a quiet bit where they both appraise the menu more seriously. Everything’s got the same weird pretentious descriptions, the kind that make stuff Chowder would usually find pretty appetising somehow sound too complex to eat enjoyably. He finds his hand resting on the ring box in his pocket and this would be a good time, maybe. Not interrupting any line of conversation, and he doesn’t feel quite as uncomfortable as before; he’s with Cait, it’s hard to feel uncomfortable with her there no matter what’s going on.

But it just doesn’t feel right. Chowder doesn’t want the snooty couple next to them listening in, or for Cait to feel pressured to say yes because they’re in public and the waiter is watching them like a hawk, or to have to figure out how to get on one knee and talk smoothly when they’re sitting at a table with not all that much space.

The restaurant is cool, kind of, and Chowder wouldn’t have wanted to knock it til he tried it, but his hand isn’t reaching into his pocket to pull out the ring. The whole schtick just doesn’t really feel like _them_. And he wants the proposal to be romantic, and to not let Caitlin down – if it’s all this big act, wouldn’t that not be romantic? Would Cait even like that, really deep down?

Chowder doesn’t know. He has no idea what he’s doing, really. He’s still got half a dozen Big Romantic Proposal ideas in the notes section of his phone to potentially work through. But he knows he isn’t going to propose in the restaurant, or in the car home, or later on before or after they probably have anniversary sex. Caitlin looks super beautiful all dressed up, and he’s still floating on their anniversary-morning snuggling session, but it’s not going to be today. He wants to do it when the time is right.

Even if that means carrying around a ring with him constantly, just to be prepared. He breathes in and out properly for the first time since booking the reservation. Then he gets down to business trying to translate the pretentiousness of the menu into something he can conceive of as food, because, man, is he hungry.

Eventually, their quiet browsing comes to an end when Caitlin says, “Hey, Chris.”

“Yeah?”

“You should get the chowder.”

It’s the most exhausted joke in the universe and Cait is only just managing to hold together a straight face. Why Chowder loves her, he doesn’t know.

He half makes to get up and leave, pushing the chair back with a squeak and layering on the annoyed look – and the waiter assigned to them comes running over, professional but lowkey panicked, asking if everything is okay. That sets Caitlin off giggling again, no help at all as Chowder goes red and awkwardly tries to reassure the poor guy that everything’s fine.

“Would you like to order?” the waiter asks, fiddling anxiously with his notepad and glancing back to where his manager is probably watching.

“Yes,” cuts in Cait, brightly and firmly, before Chowder can politely decline for now. She smirks at him, eyes dancing a little, and Chowder can wait a little longer to ask her to marry him. If he can tell this setting isn’t right for them, then he’ll be able to feel when it is. “Okay, first of all, he’ll have the chowder.”

Chowder sighs and lets his heart feel all the mushiness it wants, despite chowder not even being his favourite food.


	3. 3

Chowder looks over as Caitlin gets a text. They’re cuddled up on the couch together, watching an NCIS re-run because Cait finds it soothing after a long day at work and they’re kind of sugared out on cake, so it’s kind of accidental that he reads said text. It’s from April and says _happy birthday the absolute light of my life!!!!!_ followed by three dozen heart emojis, followed by a _that was from March but hbd I love you as well_. That’s then followed by, _u better be getting bday sex tonight after the day u had_ and two sets of eyes emojis.

Chowder watches as Cait just sends back a line of eggplants. She looks up at him watching after she presses send and says innocently, “What?”

He shakes his head, says, “Nothing,” and they get back to watching NCIS.

It’s kinda weird thinking about Cait talking to March and April about his dick or whatever – though March and April are very nice people! – but it’s not like the line of eggplants tell a lie. They’re resting right now, but birthday sex is definitely like, on the agenda. What kind of boyfriend (hopefully-at-some-point-fiancé-then-husband) would he be if it wasn’t? It’s hardly a chore, anyway.

Sure enough, not long afterwards, Chowder finds himself wriggling around on their terrible, very old, no good mattress to get out of his hoodie and jeans while Caitlin laughs at him and does the same.

“Having sex on the floor would be easier and more comfortable than this,” says Cait as she’s unbuttoning her pants, and Chowder can’t really disagree. Their floor has carpet and (probably) wouldn’t wobble around like it’s about to deflate somehow. They’d only been making out up until this point and he’d still been getting concerned the mattress was really about to pack it in.

Chowder manages to pull his layers off first, probably because Caitlin’s wearing skinny jeans, so he rolls over to go and help. She’s lying back, given up with the neck of her t-shirt still stretched around her head, the body of it pushed up above her face so she can still see. She’s flushed all splotchy in her face and down her chest.

“Had enough already?” Chowder asks. He brushes one hand down her arm, just because he really, really wants to touch her, and watches the goosebumps follow.

“Yup,” she says, finally pulling her jeans off with a flourish and chucking them across the room in triumph. “I got too annoyed trying to get my clothes off. Sex cancelled.”

Chowder quips an, “Understandable, have a nice day,” before he can help himself. Cait laughs and tells him for that the sex is back on so – and in part to make up for ancient memes in bed – he pulls her t-shirt the rest of the way over her head and leans in to kiss her.

They’d been working themselves up for quite a while before taking off clothes had been suggested, and it doesn’t take them very long kissing before they’re back to that point. Chowder can feel his pulse racing in his neck. He takes a moment to press his hand against his dick through his underwear when Caitlin pauses beneath him to unclasp her bra.

And then they’re kissing again, and Chowder starts to let his hands wander a little instead of just sinking them into Cait’s hair or cupping her face. He moves slowly; stroking along the side of her ribs, the swell of her boob, stopping to play with her nipple, and then moving on, along the slope of her waist and across the softness of her stomach. By the time Chowder reaches the edge of her underwear, Cait’s already getting too impatient to keep up with the kissing, fingers digging into his shoulders.

It’s probably for the best – it’s not just hers whose arousal has been getting wound up tighter and tighter as he’s gone on. Chowder can feel his breath coming fast and he could really, really do with a hand on his dick, but he doesn’t want to do anything just yet except touch Caitlin.

God, she is _so_ hot. It’s something he’s got used to in the day to day, but there’s no avoiding it here. He doesn’t want to.

“Quit teasing, it’s my birthday,” she says when he reaches just past the elastic of her underwear but doesn’t go any further.

It all speeds up rapidly when Chowder gets a hand on her clit. She gasps, and then moans, and again, and it’s difficult being constrained by Cait’s underwear so he gives her a hand taking them off completely. He kisses her, leaves her clit alone for a bit while he presses a finger inside, then two fingers and his mouth on her nipple, making Caitlin cry out.

He knows she’d be super close already if he was touching her clit, which is why he isn’t. She’s still so wet anyway, her breaths hitching on the tail ends of moans, as he works his fingers inside her and rubs his thumb just below her clit.

She taps him on the shoulder as he’s kissing down her chest – he pulls his fingers out and she sits up, shifting them around until somehow, he’s the one lying back slightly, looking up at Cait and her ridiculously hot, splotchy-flushed face. But Chowder’s already feeling like, a little punch drunk, brain buzzing, so he’s slow to cotton on until Cait shoves his underwear down to around his knees and gets her hand around his dick.

It’s like a splash of cold water, except the pressure of Caitlin’s hand squeezing around the head of his dick, along the shaft, does the exact opposite of cool him down. All it does is bring him sharply back to the sensations of his own body, and then zeros pretty much all his attention to wherever her skin meets his. A sound is choked out of him when she reaches behind his balls, even though it’s only for like, half a second.

Chowder pulls her down to kiss him, just to even out some of the sensation across his body. He can’t have it all centred on his dick or he’s going to embarrass himself. Cait kisses him for a bit, hand moving slowly as Chowder tries to kiss at the same time as gasping into her mouth, and then Caitlin pulls away and asks, “Can I ride you?”

“Yes!” says Chowder, probably far too quickly, brightly, and enthusiastically to be considered arousing. Cait’s eyes have gone very dark though. When he tries again and says, in a slightly more measured tone, “Sure, that would be incredibly hot,” Caitlin seems to take that as her cue.

She wastes no time pushing him to lie back and straddling him, just out of the way of his dick, and Chowder tries not to buck up or anything even though he can feel her pressed warm and wet against his torso. For a moment neither of them moves, then Cait reaches out and pushes his hair back off his face. Chowder catches her arm before she can pull back and, without really thinking about it, gently kisses the inside of her wrist. Cait smiles, pleased and a little surprised, as Chowder himself is a bit.

And then she takes her arm back, lifts up again and has a bit of an awkward shuffle before she’s slowly easing down onto his dick. Her next breath in is sharp, more of a gasp. Chowder is focusing very hard on staying as still as he can, because he hasn’t forgotten the first time they did this and there had been some misbalancing and a near black eye that would’ve seen them chirped to death. He lets himself exhale, shaky, when he can feel himself pressed all the way inside.

Caitlin gives herself a bit of time to adjust, which Chowder uses to try and pull himself a little further back from the edge, then starts to move.

It’s just small shifts of her hips at first, which is already a lot, but once she gets into a rhythm Chowder isn’t sure how to stay still or quiet. The heat and pressure are constant around his dick, his head is swimming with it. He doesn’t even have to do any work other than touching along her thighs and her back, cupping her boobs; there’s no fatigue setting in to distract him, no concentration needed, just the feeling and sights and sounds of Cait on top of him.

So when she flicks her hair back with a shake of her head for the fifth time, he notices her groan is less this-is-really-turning-me-on and more this-is-really-getting-on-my-nerves.

“Need a hair tie?” he asks, voice cracking a little in the middle as Caitlin grinds against him. Holy shit, he is _this_ close.

Cait stops, breathless and resting with her hands against his chest. “You know,” she huffs, head down and hair tickling Chowder’s nose, “that would actually be really helpful.”

There’s almost The Misbalancing Part 2 as Chowder stretches to reach the collection on the bedside cabinet, but they manage to hold it together. He hands Cait the hair tie and she pulls her hair back into a neat ponytail with the kind of efficiency only a decade or two of volleyball training can give.

“Thanks, babe,” she says, giving him a quick peck, and then gets back to business.

The short break has only taken the absolute sharpest of the edge off. Before long Caitlin’s moans are merging into one another, one hand on his hip steadying herself and the other rubbing her clit, while Chowder can feel the muscles in his thighs and stomach twitching with the effort of not coming yet.

He tries to warn her, “ _Cait_ ,” when he really, really is so close, but then her hand isn’t on his hip anymore. She reaches back and runs her fingers just along the crease of his thigh and it’s not much but that’s what finally pushes him over the edge, breath catching in his throat and his eyes squeezing shut. When he finally comes back to himself, Caitlin’s nails are digging into him as her hand stills and she clenches around where he’s already going soft inside her.

After a bit and a few shivering aftershocks, she pulls off and throws herself down on her back beside him, their shitty mattress protesting loudly. Caitlin’s breath is still unsteady, eyes shut and her flush still blotchy. Chowder takes her hand and holds it, apparently for long enough or strangely enough to cause concern.

“What?” she asks, frowning and squeezing his hand.

Chowder chews over it for a bit, feeling kinda stupid, but eventually says, “You shouldn’t have to make yourself come on your birthday.” What kind of boyfriend (hopefully-fiancé-then-husband) leaves their partner in the lurch like that on their _birthday?_

Cait rolls her eyes and kisses his cheek. “I didn’t. Whose dick was I riding again?”

Chowder doesn’t answer, though he does look down at said dick. He supposes it did okay and it definitely felt more than okay for him. He won’t be able to get it up again any time soon, but… “Well, I kind of wanted to eat you out,” he says.

Caitlin blinks at him, then her splotchy flush comes in a little harder. She spreads her legs and says easily, “Be my guest.”

Going down on Cait has almost become too easy since he’d got his braces off way back when, none of the risk that all the metal in his mouth might catch or nick her to add a bit of danger, but that doesn’t make it any less enjoyable. She’s still pretty sensitive, so Chowder goes slowly and stays away from her clit as he licks and sucks and, honestly, gets a bit distracted watching his own come slip back out when he pushes a finger inside.

“Doing okay down there?” Caitlin asks, a little breathless but mostly amused sounding.

“It’s just so weird,” he replies, seeing no reason to like, pretend about what he’s doing. They’re so far beyond all that. “Never fails to get me. It’s just there! Sliding right back on out.”

“That’s gravity for you,” says Cait, a kind of ‘what can you do’ tone that turns into a sharp breath in when Chowder finally thinks it’s been enough time and sucks on her clit. Her thighs close around his ears a bit, and it’s nice and warm and slick and her hands are in his hair as she shudders against his mouth.

“Happy birthday,” Chowder says afterwards, propping himself up on his elbows between Caitlin’s legs. Her hair has come out of its neat ponytail where she’s been moving against the bed, and she smells like sweat and sex.

“Thanks,” she says, nudging him from both sides with her knees. “You gave me everything a girl could wish for.”

“Wanna shower?” he asks. “We can use that cool body scrub thing your mom sent!”

Caitlin looks so fond it hurts to look at a little bit, because Chowder can feel his own heart growing three times in size in response.

“Two orgasms and a body scrub session? You, Chris, are truly what they call a keeper, and I love you.” And she uses that distraction to get into the bathroom to pee before he can, justifying it through the door with the explanation that it’s not good birthday vibes to get a UTI.

Curled up in bed together after their shower, Cait somewhere between awake and asleep and Chowder well on his way to following her, he honestly does consider it. The proposing thing. Right then and there. He loves Caitlin, and he loves having sex with her, and birthday sex is the best sex as they just proved. She thinks he’s a keeper.

But doing that after sex probably isn’t cool, as much as two little voices in his head that sound like Ransom and Holster assure him it would be totes cool. It definitely wouldn’t be romantic. It would probably be a bit distasteful, and not a great story to share with others. So it’s probably best to not propose immediately after sex, now or in the future, even though Chowder really does love her so much.

Besides, Caitlin is half asleep, and Chowder is having trouble keeping his eyes open. He drifts off to sleep trying to figure out how many hours of space would need to be left between having sex and proposing marriage for it to be like, anywhere within the realms of classy and romantic.


	4. 4

So it turns out, not only does Chowder not know how to propose, it’s also pretty hard to keep quiet about said clueless planning of a proposal. A good 90 percent of Chowder wants to yell it from the rooftops and just like, tell random strangers about the gospel of How Amazing Caitlin Farmer is Did You Know I Love Her and Want to Marry Her?

By five months post-marriage revelation, pretty much everyone except (hopefully!) Cait is aware of what’s going on. Not that there’s an actual plan yet, per se, now the Big Romantic Dinner has been tried, tested, and failed and nothing else has been put into action yet. Chowder knows it needs to be good – sure, part of him is just like fuck it, ask whenever you see her next. He’s sure Cait wouldn’t _mind_ that, but a bigger part of him wants her to be _thrilled_ by the Big Romantic Proposal, not just pleased. So it needs to be a surprise and it needs to be right.

There’s just so many potential ways to go about things. Chowder has a list on his phone in the notes section and it is a very long list, with help from Bitty especially but pretty much everyone and anyone he’s discussed the whole idea of proposing with. Some are more reasonable than others, and some are just fantasies.

His latest plan that he’s actually considered going for is to propose at (or near, or in the café of, or something) the aquarium near their place. Him and Cait went there their first weekend after they moved into the apartment, because Chowder loves aquariums and Caitlin loves them even more, since that’s the whole kind of idea of her degree.

Now they’re like regulars, insofar as anyone can be a regular at a kinda pricey aquarium. Chowder enjoys reading the updates the aquarium gives on the conservation projects it has, mostly involving slightly freaky fish within fragile, collapsing ecosystems. Cait likes looking at the octopi and the squid slithering and projecting themselves around their tanks.

Caitlin has been away for a week on a work trip talking at conferences and meeting lots of people and generally being very good at her job and living her best life. Meanwhile, Chowder has eaten ramen three nights in a row like he’s back in college dorms and the dining hall is closed and the Haus is just too far away for a snack. He hasn’t been like, pining, except for how he has a bit. It’s just quiet without her, and it sucks.

Chowder wakes up early on the morning of her return completely disoriented and so, so grossly sweaty. Their stupid uncomfortable mattress feels even more stupid and uncomfortable than usual and he wonders if maybe he got drunk the night before, before realising he doesn’t have a hangover.

He just fell asleep in his clothes, ring box in pocket, because he was thinking about Caitlin and about work a bit and a little about the upcoming Sharks vs. Falconers game (a match up that always leaves him torn and stressed), but mostly Caitlin. She has an early flight back, but he’s managed to wake up earlier than needed so at least there’s no need to rush.

It’s lucky, because right that second he’s feeling more than a little like, pathetic and very sweaty, and Caitlin has seen him in every state under the sun but it’s not the nicest greeting after a week of work – they’d arranged before Cait left that Chowder would come and pick her up from the airport because her work will spring for a flight but not any transit on either end. Chowder knows Cait hates driving after she’s been on a plane, and he knows everyone says he doesn’t know how to drive for shit, but he’s been working on it.

 _Let’s go to the aquarium on the way back :)_ he finds himself sending after he’s showered and feels slightly less like the kind of weird lonely slime sea monsters Cait loves to examine.

It’s impulsive; he’s been thinking over how a proposal there could work, but nothing like concrete plans yet. Cait will probably be tired after her trip and the journey back, too. But it’s sent now, and Caitlin loves the aquarium no matter what so even if they do go and nothing proposally happens, it will have been a good trip. So Chowder tries not to worry about it, without much success.

 _yes!! if im not too tired <3_ replies Cait eventually. So that’s decided. Proposing today, at the aquarium, maybe. If Caitlin doesn’t seem too tired, and if it feels right. Chowder downs a coffee even though it’ll probably make him vibrate out of his skin rather than give him any sense of clarity. He’s got way too long before he needs to set out for the airport, too.

He sits for what feels like forty minutes, browsing his phone and letting his mind wander a little, and when he checks the time it turns out it’s only been twelve minutes. So an hour and eight minutes until he needs to leave to get to the airport in time. Chowder taps the corner of his phone against the table for a bit, then against his leg, then gives up and goes to get his laptop. He can at least try and get some work done while he waits.

Because that’s the kind of day it’s already turned out to be, he gets too absorbed in his work, panics about being late to pick Caitlin up and rushes about to get out of the house, and then ends up at the airport early. Early enough that he has to circle back around to the pick up section like, four or five times before there’s any chance of Cait being here, and he’s actually on his sixth by the time he spots her standing with her tiny businessy suitcase.

Fuck, he’s missed her so much, and she’s barely been gone.

“Caitlin Farmer!” he shouts out the window, putting on his best very formal customer service voice. “Your chauffeur has arrived.”

“About time too,” says Caitlin, playing along until she looks like she might cry a little and says, “Get out here and give me a hug, you asshole. I know you’re allowed to idle in that bay for like two whole minutes at least.”

Chowder gets out of the car and gives Cait several hugs, each one somehow tighter and more drawn out than the next, punctuated by kissing her on the mouth, cheeks and forehead. It’s been a week, legit just seven days, but he just _missed_ her. Nothing massive, not a big aching hole in his chest – just this persistent sting, that he hadn’t noticed was sapping so much from him until now, when he’s got Cait’s arms wrapped around his waist and her perfume all in his nose. _Marry me marry me marry me._

“It’s so good to see you,” he tells her.

“Fuck, same,” she says, squeezing him extra tight before letting go. “They were the most swawesome conferences ever, but I missed your beautiful face. And I missed being near my beautiful aquarium family. Ugh, enough of this airport nonsense, let’s go.”

In the car, Chowder tries to prompt Caitlin to tell him about her week of conferences and meeting other people that like to study weird sea demon things. Mostly she talks freely, but then she trails off, her gaze turning to outside the window and it takes Chowder a couple of tries each time to get her back.

It’s probably jet lag, or something, is what he tells himself. If Caitlin wanted to talk about it, she would do it in the car because she loves having heart to hearts in the car and especially while Chowder is driving. And if it’s something to do with Chowder, which he doesn’t think she’d want to talk about with him in the car while he’s driving, well then– he doesn’t want to think about that possibility, really.

Instead, he babbles about his own week to fill the quiet spaces. Not much happened, because mostly he was pining after Cait, but there’s enough gossip and drama from work, and enough shenanigans from the old Samwell crew to keep a steady stream going. And it’s not like she doesn’t reply, or seems entirely disinterested, so it’s not like Chowder needs to worry! So he’s not. Worrying, that is. At all.

When they pull up to the aquarium, Caitlin perks up a little. She says hi to the people at the reception who all know them by name, and the first few walkways she seems happy to chatter about all the creatures floating and swimming and scuttling along behind the glass. Then they get to the biggest room, the one with benches and a big glass ceiling that small sharks swim across sometimes, and she gets quiet again.

Chowder isn’t sure if it’s something he’s done wrong. He can only hope not and sit them on the bench where they always sit, because there’s no point breaking habit now.

Caitlin watches the animals all around them living their lives in silence and Chowder does the same.

“Hey, Chris?” she says eventually.

A fish boinks into the glass and swims away again, not even a little dazed. “What’s up?”

Caitlin takes a deep breath. “I…” Then she hesitates, looks around and shrugs. “I really love it here,” she says. “Thanks for bringing me.”

“Sure, no problem. I love it here, too,” says Chowder, because it’s true. The aquarium is swawesome as hell, and it’s a relief that at least Cait doesn’t feel dragged here after her flight. But there’s definitely something up. “Was that really all you wanted to say?”

Cait shrugs again. “Kind of?”

Chowder isn’t so sure about that, but it’s a small step so he decides to let her have it for now. “Okay, then. Hey, look, your octopus friend is back.” He points to the corner where the little guy is waving his tentacles about. If they’re called tentacles? Maybe they’re called legs. Or arms. Chowder should just ask Cait, but she’s still watching the fish and looking pensive, barely even looking over at the octopus.

“It’s just–” she says, unprompted, and then stops again. “I was actually sort of homesick on the whole trip. Isn’t that dumb? Like, a week away and I was already missing you and our place and like, the shop on the corner and everything. Mostly you.”

Chowder doesn’t know whether to feel sad for Caitlin, or happy that she missed him so much, or bad for feeling happy that she missed him so much.

“That’s a lot of stuff to be feeling,” he says, sort of to her and himself. He puts his arm around her, light enough that she can brush him off easily if she wants, but instead she pulls his arm around her more tightly and settles in. “You should probably know I like, ate ramen for dinner three times while you were gone, and missed you so bad.”

Tentatively, Caitlin asks, “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” says Chowder, feeling sort of relieved now the truth is out. Cait missed him, she didn’t realise she hated him or something. It bolsters him enough to remind them both, “It’s not pathetic to miss your girlfriend when she’s gone for a week. Or for said girlfriend to miss her boyfriend. Even though back in the day they used to spend weeks and weeks and weeks apart all the time!” Maybe that wasn’t as subtle and wise sounding as he hoped.

Caitlin knocks her head against Chowder’s chin in understanding. “I wonder who that hypothetical boyfriend and girlfriend are,” she says, faux-curious. “You’re right, though. I missed you a bunch and felt weird about it because like, we used to spend ages apart and it was no big deal. So sorry for being kind of blegh. It was fun, but it was a tiring week.”

“No apology needed,” Chowder assured her, watching the octopus wave again.

This time, Caitlin waves back at it. “I’m just happy to be home. I even missed our fucking mattress. You get into routines, you know?”

Chowder does know. He’s spent all week tripping over routines he didn’t even realise he shared with Cait. He doesn’t want to be tripping over stuff like that anymore, not unless they really have to.

And this would be the perfect moment, Chowder thinks, to ask. They’re in a place that’s special to them, Chowder doesn’t feel panicked out of his skin even though he’s drunk coffee, and Cait has more or less been saying she wants to be with him all the time. That could be a romantic proposal, right? And really, it doesn’t matter in who else’s opinion – it feels right to Chowder.

_Caitlin Farmer, we have lots of routines that I trip over without you there, because I want you to always be there, even if being there just means brushing our teeth together in the morning. Please will you marry me?_

“Caitlin…” he starts and there must be something in his voice, because she looks up right away.

His spare hand moves (hopefully subtly) down to his pants pocket, where he’s been carrying the ring box for weeks and weeks. And it pats nothing. There’s no ring box in there. Chowder’s stomach swoops and is replaced by some kind of a nausea machine instead. He’s lost the ring. How in the fuck has he lost the ring?

He can’t ask Caitlin to marry him without a ring. Can he? He could! But that wouldn’t be the proposal he’s been trying to perfect for months now, and why put all those months of effort in just to throw it out the window at the last minute? Chowder also can’t afford to buy another ring, so what does he do now?

And then in his mind’s eye, he sees it: the ring box. Sitting on their fucking bed at home, almost lost between the folds of the duvet, but not lost enough for some subconscious part of Chowder’s brain to miss registering it being there.

There, on their bed, at the house. Because Chowder had fallen asleep on it in his clothes like an idiot and the box must have fallen out of his pocket. And he forgot to check he had it in the rush to get to the airport.

“Chris?”

Chowder blinks himself back to the present. It’s fine. It’s no big deal. He’ll probably have another just as fitting, appropriate and romantic occasion to propose to Caitlin, hopefully before he has to wait another five months. But he can wait, if need be. Although Nursey had made that promise about nine months or he’d do the damn proposing.

But it would be fine. It is fine. The ring is just at home, which is a shame, because some part of Chowder’s brain is despairing that he will ever come across a proposal scenario as nice as this again. The aquarium is so pretty, and peaceful. Chowder tries to focus on that, instead of being disappointed with himself, or disappointed with himself for not just asking anyway.

“I’m fine,” he tells Cait, pulling a smile onto his face. It doesn’t feel that forced; he is happy to see her, after all. “I just wanted to say I really love this aquarium, too. I’m glad we came today.”

Cait searches his face, just a quick one glance over, but either doesn’t find anything or doesn’t have anything to say about what she does see. She settles back under his arm as one of the small sharks glides overhead and Chowder watches it go, hoping his chance at actually ever proposing hasn’t slipped away as smoothly.


	5. 5

It’s not anything cool or sexy or dangerous that finally does their ancient mattress in.

Chowder sits on it to try and sort out the washing which he’d chucked all in one clump into the basket out the dryer. There are an approximate three billion stretchy leggings legs tying the whole load up like some kind of bondage experiment gone wrong, and he looks at the clump in his lap and tries to figure out where to safely start, like strategizing Jenga.

He tugs on one of the makeshift straps and it doesn’t budge, just stretches out in the way leggings are designed to but isn’t handy for laundry. He tugs again and then another time and then _another_ and that time it snaps abruptly free from its fellows. Chowder just about stops himself from falling back fully, and probably giving himself a concussion on the headboard or something bad, by letting all the washing fall on the floor and catching himself on his elbow.

Crisis just about averted. He and Cait even hoovered not _that_ long ago, so the laundry bundle is safe on their probably-just-a-bit-gross carpet for a moment.

And then two springs come out of the mattress at once.

Chowder can admit he yells loud enough when the springs burst out of the mattress’ casing and nearly rip their bed sheets that Caitlin is not unjustified running into the room and yelling back, panicked, “Holy shitting fuck, Chris, what’s happening?”

In his defence, one spring is jutting right into his armpit and the other almost sprung (haha) into his junk. And it’s just generally pretty alarming! Springs are supposed to stay in the mattress, and make it springy, not attack the poor dude that bought this mattress possibly second hand from a friend of a friend of a Falconer that Jack recommended.

Okay, so maybe the mattress has had enough and done more than its due, but still.

Chowder lets his heart rate settle at least a little then explains, “I think I accidentally killed the mattress.”

Caitlin looks at the mattress and its springs, then at their laundry on the floor, then back at Chowder half-curled up to avoid maiming by bed spring. While he gingerly moves away from the springs and off the bed, Cait sighs and turns her snapback around like Ash from Pokémon. Except it’s hot and impressive and somehow deeply reassuring when she does it; it means she’s ready for business, like the time she’d done so before her and Lardo had slaughtered half the Samwell men’s soccer team at beer pong.

Caitlin says, succinctly, “Yikes.” And then, “You scared the life out of me, oh my God, I thought there was an axe murderer.”

“Sorry, it just took me by surprise. I always figured it would just like, _sag_ if it broke?” They both watch the mattress for any more sudden movement, but it’s still, and kind of pathetic looking with two springs poking out. Chowder asks, “Should we take the bed sheet off?”

“I guess so,” says Cait, and she doesn’t sound eager about it. “The springs can’t literally jump out at us, right?”

Chowder eyes the bumps where the springs are with even more trepidation; he hadn’t considered that. “I don’t think so? I’ll Google it just to be sure.”

Turns out they can’t, really, so they manage to save their bed sheet, but their mattress is more or less defunct. Like, Chowder wouldn’t necessarily be opposed to him and Caitlin snuggling together on the side of the mattress without massive metal springs sticking out of it, but he also recognises that’s pretty inconvenient. And not a long-term solution exactly.

“We could use the air mattress until we can get a new real mattress,” is what he offers instead. Their bedroom floor is not particularly comfortable, now Chowder is sitting on it while they think, even though the carpet is supposedly one of those thick nice ones.

Cait says, “The air mattress that Dex and Nursey burst last time they stayed over?”

“Oh, yeah.” Chowder never did get around to replacing that – or rather Dex and Nursey never did, even though they said they would, because they were the ones that mysteriously popped it.

And then Cait says, “When they fucked on it even though they were our guests. That time.”

And Chowder says, “Oh my fucking God, _Cait_ , no, why, come on.” Then, “Okay, maybe, but still! Let’s keep the illusion going, I like to think they didn’t have sex on our poor air mattress with us in the next room.”

“All right,” says Cait, and she pats his knee pityingly. She sighs and looks around at the available floor space with a keen eye. “Come on, we’re going to have to set up a pillow fort in this bad boy.”

_I love you so much please marry me_ , Chowder thinks with intense clarity, but he still doesn’t say it. Not yet. He’s starting to despair of if he’ll ever find the right time to ask now that the aquarium opportunity has slipped him by, but Chowder isn’t going to bust out a proposal when their mattress has passed away. That’s like, insensitive.

So, he and Caitlin relocate to the floor. They layer blankets and cushions and one still slightly musty sleeping bag (from a foray into camping when they’d briefly forgotten they were both more or less city kids through and through) for covers and for some softness. Despite their floor being carpeted. Really, if Chowder didn’t have other things to do and know it would just be a stress on some poor retail worker’s time then he’d be asking questions of the manufacturer.

Chowder figures it’s gonna be a little like an extended slumber party for a while, which is kinda fun, except they still have to do stuff like chores and get to sleep at a reasonable hour because they have jobs. That’s less fun, but Chowder still enjoys doing it with Caitlin.

And another chore on their list now is mattress hunting. Like house hunting, but for a good mattress.

So a few days after their tired old mattress said goodbye, Cait has trapped Chowder on their couch with her legs. She has her laptop resting on her knees and Chowder knows from the angle she’s sitting at it means actually seeing the screen is probably impossible. Chowder has his own laptop resting at an awkward 45-degree angle on her shins, because he has coding to do.

“So, we could just get another cheap one,” she starts, after some rapid typing and clicking and scrolling. “First hand though this time. Like, they’re not _cheap_ , but they’re not expensive for a mattress?”

“How much?”

“I don’t know, like, a hundred dollars or less. I’m still looking.”

“Sounds like it could work,” says Chowder, still 80 percent focused on his coding but only because he trusts Cait’s judgement, “as long as I don’t get nearly killed by springs again.”

Caitlin digs her heel into the side of his leg but doesn’t refute the danger of rogue springs. “This blog I’m looking at says it might have to be changed every two years, though?”

That pulls Chowder out of his code. “Every two years? Wow! I’m pretty sure our dearly departed had been on this planet for like, well over fifteen years. Minimum.”

“Uh, _yeah_ ,” says Cait, “and it was uncomfortable as shit and smelled funky and had that weird mark on it.”

Chowder privately maintains that the mark was from that time they had hot chocolate in bed and Caitlin had tickled him despite knowing the consequences, but he decides to let it be. “Okay, fair.”

Cait gets back to her clicking and scrolling, probably opening five dozen tabs so her laptop will crash in a minute if Chowder knows her at all.

He watches her research for a bit, just because. She’s changed out of her work clothes into lounging gear, and she’s pushed her hair back with a headband which means she’s planning on a facemask later, with an open offer for Chowder to get in on the action if he wants. Nine times out of ten, though, Caitlin forgets she even planned for the mask and just goes to bed still wearing the headband, laughing at herself about it in the morning.

Maybe this time one of them will remember – Chowder’s no expert on skincare, but he’s feeling a little clogged in the pores. Or something. He wants to do facemasks with Cait.

He thinks about the ring box he’d tucked away in his nasty hockey gear after The Aquarium Incident. It’s a bag that Caitlin won’t touch because _no volleyball player’s stuff is that gross smelling Chris what the fuck_. Maybe now? But what if it’s the wrong time, and he wants it to be right for her and this is so, so far from the kind of romantic scheme Cait deserves. Chowder just needs to figure something else out now he fucked up the aquarium, something that feels right for _them_ –

“Huh,” says Caitlin, frowning at the screen, “All these nicer ones have like, ten-year warranties and stuff.”

Chowder puts his laptop aside and wriggles his way over next to Cait so he can not-see the screen too. There are definitely images, maybe some text, but it’s all so blurred and greyish he has no idea how she’s processing any of it into actual information. “That’s not bad, right? It means it’ll last us ages without getting crappy, and if it doesn’t we can sue them or whatever.”

“Yeah, I think so, but–”

“What? Are they super expensive?” He reaches out and tilts the screen down so he can actually _see_ anything and winces. “Ooh no, they are a bit. We can save up!”

Caitlin stares at him, as much as someone who is five inches away lying back on the same couch arm can stare. “You’re sure? Saving up for custody of a mattress lasting ten years minimum?”

“Why not? I know I was kinda attached to our old girl, but I can admit now that it didn’t give us the best nights of sleep, or the best days of sitting, and even for an old second-hand mattress it did look and smell sort of gross!” And Chowder feels bad saying it, because they still haven’t chucked out their old mattress, but it’s true. The thought of a comfortable, neutrally-scented mattress is bliss. “It’ll be worth saving up if our new mattress is going to actually support our backs and stuff for ten whole _years_.”

Cait stares at him a bit longer then her expression turns soft. “You’re right and I love you.” She cranes her neck over to kiss him on the cheek, then turns back to look at the array of mattresses on the screen and says, “Here’s to ten years with a good mattress.” And then, “You know, we should get married, probably.”

Chowder nods in vague agreement before he even processes what Cait had just said, but then he does process it. And processes it. And processes it. He’s kind of stuck on the processing bit.

“Chris?” Cait asks, face turned back to him and voice on the way to concerned. “Do you want to get married? To me?” She’s starting to look unsure which is just wrong.

“Yes,” Chowder says immediately, no forethought, on complete automatic because _obviously_.

Chowder has a lot of love to give and has been lucky enough to receive a lot in return, but Caitlin is first of all his girlfriend and second of all just like, his most favourite person in the world. She’s _his_ person; there’s no way he doesn’t want to commit himself to spending the rest of his life with her. He already decided that ages and ages ago, probably even before he realised it during that brunch.

Cait’s smile looks wide enough to hurt, and she’s still holding her laptop so it kind of gets in the way when she moves onto her side to look at him properly. “Okay, then. Chris Chow, for real, will you marry me?”

Chowder feels his eyes filling with tears before Caitlin’s even finished. She’d started strong but her voice wavers towards the end as she gets a little misty eyed too.

Chowder says again, “Yes.”

His voice cracks on even such a short word. He’s been thinking about marriage and proposing in the back of his mind for so long that surely it shouldn’t be as overwhelming as it is. His heart feels too big for his chest.

They’re lying so awkwardly on the couch, Caitlin’s laptop still open between them and the corner digging painfully into Chowder’s thigh, but he leans in to kiss Cait all the same, because she just asked him to marry her and he needs to do _something_ before the feeling in his chest legit cracks one of his ribs. It’s not the most co-ordinated of kisses, since they’re both sniffling and smiling and squeezed onto their not very large couch, and halfway through it Chowder starts to laugh.

“What?” Cait asks. And when Chowder can’t quite reel it in yet, “This is supposed to be romantic or whatever, why are you laughing?” Chowder would be worried Caitlin is actually upset, but she’s looking at him too affectionately for that; she kisses his temple even as he’s still breathless laughing. She wipes away his tears that have started up again from laughing, even though she still looks a little confused.

Eventually, the absurdity of it dies down. “Sorry, sorry,” he says, “I’m just laughing because I’ve been trying to work out how to propose for _months_ and you just _did_ it. Like, just asked me while we’re here on the couch trying to buy a mattress! I love you so much.”

Caitlin’s mouth drops open and her eyes are looking teary again. “You’ve been planning for months?”

“Just like,” Chowder says, wriggling uncomfortably, “almost six months. Maybe.”

“Chris!” Cait yelps, and then she has the foresight to put the laptop on the coffee table before it gets broken. “That’s so long, holy shit. Oh no, have I completely fucked up your plan? Did you go and get a ring and everything?”

“You didn’t fuck up the plan!” Chowder is quick to reassure her, wanting to get rid of the worry in her face as fast as possible. “Actually, I’ve kind of fucked up all the ones I had myself so far. Uh. But I do have a ring!”

Cait looks at him for a moment, and when he doesn’t say more, asks, “Where?”

Chowder had been hoping not to have to like, ever tell her. “In my hockey gear?”

He lets her process that. “Wow,” says Cait eventually. “ _Wow_. I must really love you, because that is so gross? But I’m almost willing to get up and get it out of there myself just to like, seal the deal.”

Chowder grabs her arm, even though she hasn’t made any move to go.“You can’t go and get it yourself!”

Where’s the romance in that? He explains the rest all in one breath, because it’s sort of embarrassing how much of a disaster it’s been, “I used to carry it in my pocket but then I thought I’d lost it that time in the aquarium so I put it in my gear so you wouldn’t find it. I’ve been trying for ages to ask at the right time? I wanted it to be right for you and memorable and romantic.”

Caitlin kisses him again, just quickly, smiling like she can’t help it. She says, “This isn’t romantic enough for you? Me asking on our couch while mattress shopping?”

It hits Chowder afresh then: Caitlin asked him to marry her. He said yes. They’re getting married! He’s not crying, except for how he still is a little.

“This is romantic enough for me,” Chowder chokes out, and it’s true. All he’s wanted was to be able to promise himself to Caitlin, and for it to feel right. Weirdly enough, this does. It’s their brand of romance: out of the blue, a bit impromptu, and something that feels _right_ all the way down to Chowder’s bones once they step into it.

Cait pulls him into a hug, which because they’re lying on the couch means just wriggling in closer and wrapping her arms around him. “You know I would’ve said yes no matter when or where you asked, right?”

“I think I get it now,” he says, nodding. He wipes his eyes on Cait’s boob. “I was just freaking out about getting it right and not like, disappointing you. You know what it’s like.”

Chowder wishes this was the first time he’s kind of silently internally panicked about something big for fear of letting others down. But it isn’t – see actually moving to Samwell, actually asking Cait to move in with him, picking the job offer on the west coast or the east coast – and he doubts it will be the last.

Caitlin says into his shoulder, “You did get it right.”

“What do you mean?”

When Chowder pulls back to look at her properly, Cait looks almost embarrassed. She shrugs a little and explains, “You wanted to get a mattress with me. A mattress with a ten-year warranty. That’s like, the real deal, you know? You didn’t even think twice about us being together in ten years.”

Chowder isn’t going to cry again, but he’s abruptly not ready to make words just yet. Of course they were going to be together in ten years. Cait turns steadily pinker and carries on, “So that’s why I asked. I mean I love you, and I’ve been lowkey thinking about it for a while I guess, but–” She shrugs again, jostling them where she’s still got her arms around him.

“The mattress was the final straw?” Chowder suggests.

Cait laughs and agrees, “That fucking shitty-ass mattress. Now I’m double glad it died.”

Her face is glowing pink, and without thinking Chowder frees one of his hands from their hug-tangle and rests it against one of her cheeks. It’s very warm. Caitlin doesn’t say anything else but they do look at each other for a beat or seven, and one day they’re going to be married, and then they’re halfway through some frantic and semi-tearful, semi-laughing making out before Chowder knows what’s going on.

When they pause for breath, Cait pulls back and asks, “Hey, _you_ didn’t want a big, fancy theatrical proposal thing, right?”

Chowder thinks about how he’s wanted to yell from the rooftops how much he loves Caitlin, the woman he wants to marry, ever since the idea of proposing popped into his head. He still has all the other Big Romantic Proposal plans on his phone that he hadn’t got through, and they hadn’t been entirely unappealing. Chowder likes sharing this kind of stuff with people.

The pressure and the stress had sucked, though. Trying to figure out arranging and co-ordinating it all, trying to tell whether or not it would be a disaster or Caitlin would love it, trying to build up the guts to put himself out there in front of so many people and possibly disappoint everyone. Trying to do this whole song and dance, when that hadn’t ever been _their_ style. He and Cait used to get fined to hell and back in the Haus, but it was for small PDA and cutesy names – nothing intense. Nothing out there, no Big Romance, most of the time just the two of them liking each other too much and wanting the other to know it to remember about fines, or too much to care.

Chowder thinks he kinda lost sight of that somewhere along the way, worrying about how to get it right by some weird societal standard of proposing. He’s glad Caitlin managed to get his head back on straight by beating him to it, because that’s what it comes down to: he just likes Cait and loves Cait too much not to want to marry her and spend the rest of his life with her, plain and simple.

“No,” he tells her. “This is perfect.”

 

\---

**Chris Chow** is with **Caitlin Farmer**

Got Engaged to Caitlin Farmer

Today

**See Relationship**

**Larissa Duan** , **March Wiśniewski** , **Jack Zimmermann** and **84 others** like this

**View 32 comments**

**Eric Bittle** Oh my God, congratulations!!!!!!! Time goes by so fast T____T

            ↳ **Chris Chow** _replied_ oh man, right?? but thanks Bitty!!!! :D

            ↳ **Uncle SB Knight** _replied_ as my frog’s frog and my frog’s frog’s gf, i fucking love you kids and i will personally get web-ordained and wed you myself if youre into that whole thing. you are my own flesh and blood

            ↳ **Uncle SB Knight** _replied_ also before all that (if we aren’t all too fucking ancient and fragile by then, thanks Bits) im pulling together your entire collective social circle and we’re gonna throw you the MOST epic spouses-to-be party you’ve EVER seen. gonna have to schedule it 2 weeks ahead of the big day you guys are gonna be so shitfaced. @everyone, be there or be square

            ↳ **Chris Chow** _replied_ :o

            ↳ **Caitlin Farmer** _replied_ :o

**Hannah Chow** CHRIS how come I hear about this on FACEBOOK im your SISTER??? Et tu, Cait???

            ↳ **Hannah Chow** _replied_ oh wait lol my b, just checked my phone and saw your calls and texts kdfhdkfghdfg sorry!

            ↳ **Hannah Chow** _replied_ though obvs I’m very happy for you guys

            ↳ **Chris Chow** _replied_ nailed it, Hannah

**Derek Nurse** C!!! at last, bro!! For real mad congrats, youre both the loml and no one deserves either of u except each other

            ↳ **Larissa Duan** _replied_ what he said

            ↳ **Caitlin Farmer** _replied_ Thanks guys, u know we know it! though actually in the end I beat him to the question c:

            ↳ **Derek Nurse** _replied_ omg Farms thank you for putting **Chris Chow** out of his misery

            ↳ **Chris Chow** _replied_ well not to be that guy on FB, but I’ve legit never been less miserable!!!!!

            ↳ **William Poindexter** _replied_ Yeah, because she asked you, even though you’ve been planning for literal months. Like, 6 months?

            ↳ **Caitlin Farmer** _replied_ hahahahaha love you Chris, but what he said :P

**Tony Tangredi** Hey Chowder, hey Farms!! This is great news!!!! How do I heart react this? Or is it love react? I keep angry-reacting but that’s not what I mean, I’m really happy for you!

            ↳ **Chris Chow** _replied_ don’t worry, we get it! Thank you Tango!!

**Isabela Martín** my beautiful niece , all grown up and getting Married ! You are both  so beautiful .. lots of love from all of us here xx

            ↳ **Caitlin Farmer** _replied_ Thank you, auntie!

**John Johnson** haha wow finally man! only took more than half of the narrative to get here lol (if you can say we ever ‘got here’ at all – like what does that mean really? who has to ask for it to count, within the established premise? and what does ‘here’ mean?? idk, just some thoughts) anyways best of luck in marriage, your future is what you make of it (or is it? lol)

            ↳ **Chris Chow** _replied_ ~~um~~ [Comment deleted]

            ↳ **Chris Chow** _replied_ thanks Johnson, always good to hear from you!


	6. + 1

They’re standing outside their rehearsal dinner, and the sound of all their extended family and all their friends mingling is pretty deafening, even through the doors. It’s more of a pre-wedding party than a rehearsal dinner, with the noise and the amount of people. He and Caitlin need to find some quieter people in their lives, clearly, except not at all because Chowder loves everyone in that room so much.

Maybe not the distant aunties and uncles on his side he hasn’t seen since he was like ten, and maybe not all of Caitlin’s family because he hasn’t met all of them (yet!), but everyone else. Plus they get to eat awesome food and get presents.

The only real downsides are having to rehearse the actual wedding, but that’s done now, and having to dress up for it – Chowder never did get comfortable wearing suits, and this one is tailored to be comfortable (since it’s for his _wedding,_ holy shit!) but it’s just not him. The second the formalities of the dinner are done he’s taking the jacket off and undoing the tie at the very least.

The upside to having to get dressed up, though, is that Cait has to, too. She’d said she was kind of looking forward to it, just for the novelty. Standing in the kind of dingy hallway, she looks beautiful and radiant and a bit nervous.

“Ready?” he asks. Neither of them has gone through the doors. They weren’t really supposed to pause outside at all.

She nods and says, more confidently than she looks, “Yeah. You?”

“I’m ready,” Chowder says, even though he isn’t sure he is. There’s a lot of people in that room, and he’s not going to be doing anything to distract him from their focus largely being on him while the formalities go down. “You don’t look that ready.”

Caitlin shrugs. “It feels kinda weird, everyone’s like decked out in what they’ll be wearing when it’s the actual thing, but I’m just in the dress I wore to Spring Fling in sophomore year.” It’s a nice dress, and Chowder tells her as much. He’s already seen the wedding dress but like, auntie superstitions and stuff.

Cait says, “I guess so.” And then, “I don’t know. Just processing everything, I guess.”

“You’re not wobbling on any of the details?” he asks. _You’re not wobbling on the whole thing?_

“Yeah, actually, I changed my mind on having my corsage be Sharks teal? I’m thinking Ducks colours instead now,” says Caitlin, so deadpan that for a moment Chowder believes her and tries very hard to hide the depth of his horror and heartbreak. Then she grins at him, and the reality that Caitlin would never do that to him kicks back in.

“Oh my gosh, don’t even joke about that!” he warns all the same. “For real, though, if there’s anything then now is the time to say. You swear you’re okay with keeping our own names?”

Her smile softens. “Chris, babe, we have been over this a _thousand_ times. I’m fine with it, you’re fine with it, remember?”

“I know,” Chowder says, because he does. They’ve spent months discussing every detail, and they’ve spent years before that learning each other. He just wants to be _sure_. Also, “What if I really want to be Christopher Farmer?”

“Shut the fuck up, you’re _not_ becoming Christopher Farmer,” Caitlin says, laughing now, which is what Chowder was aiming for. She pokes him in the side for emphasis. “You’ll sound like you’re from Idaho or something and I’ll have to divorce you.”

Chowder tries not to be That Californian, but honestly, that’s valid. “Oh, so you’re only marrying me for my cool Californian beach boy vibes? The truth is all coming out now.”

“Obviously,” says Cait. “You know all that hockey they play on the beach. In California. The Californian beach which is all ice, not sand and ocean. Though the two skill sets for beach and ice are totally the same, right?”

“You fall off a surfboard in front of your girlfriend _once_ ,” sighs Chowder.

“Or twice,” counters Caitlin.

“Or maybe like thirty times,” Chowder concedes.

His parents are not avid beach fans; they’ve never said so, but Chowder is pretty sure they probably would’ve stuck around in Massachusetts forever if they hadn’t been offered work in California instead. Plus, it’s North California. Different (though superior) ballpark completely.

By contrast, Caitlin’s parents are Southern Californians to the bone and would probably happily set up house on the actual beach if they could, probably about two inches from the highest point of the tide. Caitlin’s been crawling around in the sand and the sea since the minute she _could_ crawl.

Caitlin smiles and shakes her head, and Chowder can tell she’s remembering their first trip to the beach just like he is. It had been back when all the time they spent together was a date, not just being together, and so Chowder had still been a little desperate to impress her: he’d suggested surfing as a fun date despite not having gone since he was like four years old. And that was once when they’d first moved to California. And he cried the whole time. His sister cherishes the photo album that includes the pictures of that, if only for the chirping value.

“At least you can admit your failure,” Cait says, “and at least you proved yourself at volleyball.”

“Silver linings,” agrees Chowder. He catches sight of the clock down the corridor, and it’s not like they have a _strict_ schedule but there is a vague plan they need to stick to. “Feeling any readier?”

“Sure, it’s just, like, all our friends and family in there and there has to be speeches and stuff. It’s fine, and we have to do it all again tomorrow, which is fine.”

They had been floating happily in a blissful world of wedding prep, chugging along amazingly low in stress until a few days ago. Unfortunately, they’ve both been whacked round the head at the same time with the reality of all the things they have to sort and family members they have to keep happy and the effort of all of it. Caitlin is looking a little pale under her makeup, and really, they should be panicking before the actual wedding, not the damn rehearsal dinner, but here they are.

Chowder says, “That sounds like you’re not ready.”

“Okay, I am freaking out a little, but, like it’s all worth it for tomorrow. And it’s just speeches, presents, food, then lowkey partying.” Caitlin takes his hand in hers and squeezes it a little as she takes a steadying breath which Chowder copies. “All right, game time, let’s do this.”

They push the doors open and step into the rented hall that is their rehearsal dinner venue. Everyone turns to look at them, of course, but other than that it’s pretty chill. It doesn’t go silent or anything like that.

They go up to the table at the front of the room and sit and it’s all being hosted by Cait’s parents, as per tradition, so they do the talking first. Chowder tries not to blush too much as they say loads of very nice things about how he’s already been part of the family for years. Then it’s Chowder’s mom and dad, who put a bunch of corny jokes in because they’re his mom and dad, then some others, and then presents. He and Cait had agreed no opening presents at the table with a whole room of people watching, so they’re just handed over to be opened at a later date, and then it’s already time for food and music.

It’s hard to eat when they get interrupted every ten seconds by a family member that wants to come over and chat, and give their congratulations, and be a bit nosey. His grandma comes over _twice_ to try and convince them for the billionth time to add some more red to their color scheme.

Chowder can’t quite find it in himself to be actually mad about it, though, at least not today. Later, maybe, when he looks back on how nice the tartlets would have been if he could’ve eaten them warm rather than slowly cooling.

Caitlin finishes telling their engagement story to the eighth great aunt that’s come up and asked about it and sighs loudly, sinking down in her chair. Luckily the aunt is already moving slowly back to her seat (and her very tall, full glass of gin and tonic) and doesn’t hear it.

Chowder gives Cait a questioning look and she explains, “I almost wish you _had_ asked me to marry you. I’m sure they’d all find it a lot less of an ‘interesting’ and ‘unique’ choice and then maybe I wouldn’t have to describe it a million times.”

Chowder almost feels bad, except he doesn’t think he could feel bad hearing her recount one of the happiest moments of his life. It does suck that people are so thrown by it, the weird mix of confusion and disapproval, and it does kinda suck that he never got to ask. Not for the tradition, but just because. Although…

“Well, since I never got to actually ask,” Chowder starts and Cait looks confused and then it clicks and she’s giving him a _look_ , but it’s not a discouraging one, so he continues, “Caitlin Farmer, will you marry me?”

The question hangs there for a moment. The dinner carries on around them, but it seems quieter and distant, and just Cait looks at him and there’s a split second where Chowder thinks _holy fuck she’s going to say no_. Then she smiles at him and Chowder realises he’s being an idiot, because no one smiles at someone like that if they don’t want to marry them.

“Oh my God,” Caitlin says, voice a little thick, “You’re such a dummy and you’re going to make me smudge my make up.” She smacks his arm under the table and blinks hard.

Chowder’s heart soars. “So is that a yes?”

“Ugh, obviously.” She presses her fingers to the corners of her eyes. “I’m the one that asked _you_ , did you think I was going to suddenly change my mind? The literal day before our wedding?”

Chowder shrugs. “No, but I was planning for so long how to ask you. It seemed a shame to like, _never_ ask, just because you beat me to it? And now you can tell the next ten aunts that come up that I asked you!” He doesn’t want to get tearful at the table which has been legit elevated so everyone can see them, but the wedding is suddenly very, very real in a way it hadn’t been about thirty seconds ago and he’s feeling all kinds of sappy. “It’s just nice to hear you say it, too. That you want to marry me.”

Caitlin leans over and kisses him on the cheek. Ignoring the hoots and whistles that gets from the assembly, she says, quiet and gentle and steady and sure, “Yes, Chris, I will marry you.” Then she laughs. “Can you fucking believe it? We’re getting married tomorrow!”

\---

Chowder is so excited, and nervous, and in love, and so ready to take this awful suit off, that he almost doesn’t register that they’ve reached the most important bit of the whole wedding deal. Apart from the signing of the marriage licence, which doesn’t have the same grandeur but is pretty important and pretty fucking exciting.

The officiant asks, “Do you, Caitlin Farmer, take Christopher Chow to be your lawfully wedded husband?”

Everything narrows down to him and Cait, standing across from each other, although he is distantly aware of some honking and tearful nose blowing in the audience.

Chowder’s eyes are a little blurry with tears himself, but not so much that he’s going for the tissues in his pocket. He’s too busy being blown away by how beautiful Caitlin is, and just how lucky he is. To be able to already have spent a decade knowing Caitlin has his back no matter what, and that he has hers? This is just a continuation – a solidification – of all of that. He can already envision the edges of all the decades to come, because between them they’ve got the fundamental foundations figured out. Like, 86 percent, at least.

Caitlin sounds a little nasal with not crying, and Chowder would totally pass her the tissues he has in his pocket for this exact possibility, except he doesn’t want to draw everyone’s attention to it and she’s already saying, “I do.”

Chowder’s heart skips a beat, and he reaches into his pocket and hands her the tissues anyway. The officiant smiles, and from the crowd there’s a few _aw_ s and some laughs; Cait laughs at herself a little but takes the tissues gratefully to dab her eyes and nose.

Chowder’s whole heart really is going to burst. He’s so glad he picked Samwell, that he met Caitlin, that they’ve been able to share too many good hours and days to count. That they’ve stuck it out even through the times when it was really, really hard, and that they’re going to keep on collecting countless good and bad hours and days and years. Enough that they all blend into just one long string of life.

Chowder’s so glad their ugly stupid uncomfortable mattress nearly took his dick off, and that he said no problem to an investment mattress with a ten-year warranty, and that Cait cut his overthinking short before it ended up with Nursey having to do the proposing, and that she asked him to marry her. He’s so glad to love Caitlin and to be loved in return.

The officiant asks, “And do you, Christopher Chow, take Caitlin Farmer to be your lawfully wedded wife?”

In the end, it’s simple.

“I do,” says Chowder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :)
> 
> You can reblog the art [here](http://missweber.tumblr.com/post/180102616252/i-had-the-great-pleasure-of-doing-art-for) and the fic [here.](http://omgcpbigbang2018.tumblr.com/post/180103855207)
> 
>   
> A little extra sketch from missweber that 1) I just adore too much to not include 2) is 500% Caitlin's phone background/lockscreen


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